She knew the answers to none of these questions. The prospect of opening her eyes-of showing that she had regained consciousness and thereby returning once more to all the stress and anxiety of the past few days-frightened her. As long as she remained unmoving, with closed eyes, she had a respite. She lay still; but listened intently.
Some sort of movement was going on near-by. A shadow fell across her eyelids. Then it seemed that two people were kneeling-or sitting, or crouching-beside her. Someone felt her pulse; she was careful to keep her wrist limp and let it drop when it was released. A voice she did not know, but could now recognize as Suban, said, "And how did she come by that burn on her shoulder, Anda-Nokomis?"
Bayub-Otal's voice replied, "Oh, in Bekla, too. That's what their priests call questioning."
"I don't think she's in any danger," said the first voice. "Pulse is steady-breathing's easy-no recent injuries except the shin there. Fine-looking girl, isn't she? And the resemblance-as you say, it's amazing. How was she on the journey?"
"Like a falcon," replied Bayub-Otal. "She never complained, either."
"You say you lost poor young Thel in the river?"
"I'm afraid so."
There was a pause.
"Well, you'd better put her to bed, Anda-Nokomis: I think she's nothing more than tired out; certain amount of fear and strain, too, I suppose."
"She can't have been free from fear for days," said Bayub-Otal.
"But she didn't say so?"
"No."
The voice uttered a sympathetic murmur. "Don't worry, Anda-Nokomis; I'd expect her to recover by tomorrow."
This exchange made Maia feel a good deal less apprehensive. The voice, which was slow, deliberate and rather deep, sounded like that of quite an old man. Obviously he was friendly towards both herself and Bayub-Otaclass="underline" and she was not going to be made to get up and go on; or not just yet, anyway. To go to bed and stay there-that was more than enough for the moment. Sooner or later she would have to let them see she was conscious, so it might as well be now.
She moaned slightly, drew a couple of deep, sighing breaths, opened her eyes and looked round her. She was lying near the edge of a long, more-or-less triangular patch of rough grass, bordered on either side by dense trees. The point of the triangle was behind her, to her right, and here a track came out from among the trees, leading on past her to a cluster of stilted huts about a hundred yards off. Near these stood a little crowd of dirty, rough-looking people-men, women and children-all staring in her direction. They did not seem to be talking much and were showing no particular excitement. In fact, she thought, they rather resembled cattle in a field gazing at a stranger.
Lenkrit and Pillan were standing a few yards away, together with two or three other men-obvious Subans; short, swarthy and broad-featured-all bare-footed and dressed in the same sort of garment; rough, shapeless smocks made out of some kind of smooth, grayish skin unknown to her.
Bayub-Otal was kneeling beside her, together with an old man with a lined, brown face, deep-sunk eyes and a shock of gray hair. Round his neck, on a leather cord, was a bone amulet in the shape of a fish with gaping, toothed jaws. This, in fact, was the first thing Maia saw as she opened her eyes, for since its owner was bending over her it was hanging forward almost into her face. A good deal of the fetid, muddy odor, she now realized, came from him: at least, it was all around, but it would have been less strong if he had not been there. His look, however, was kind enough. Meeting it, she felt still less afraid, and for one strange, here-and-gone moment even had the no-
tion that she had seen it somewhere before. It expressed not only concern but also a kind of firm, undemanding patience, suggesting that by and large he expected to find people suffering and that even if he could not do a great deal about it he was in no particular hurry to leave them and be off about his own affairs. Nevertheless, he was a somewhat startling figure with whom to be confronted at close quarters, and Maia involuntarily drew back a little, turning her gaze towards Bayub-Otal.
He, though looking as tired as she felt, smiled down at her reassuringly.
"You've nothing to be afraid of, Maia. We're in Suba. No one can take you back to Bekla from here."
Uncontrollably, the tears sprang to her eyes. She sat sobbing on the spongy, warm ground, her wet hair hanging round her shoulders, her mouth and nose running down her chin. Bayub-Otal put his arm round her, then rolled up his cloak and, placing it behind her head, pressed her gently back until she was once more lying down.
"Let her cry if she wants to, Anda-Nokomis," said the shaggy man. "It'll do her good. She couldn't very well cry before, could she?"
"Well, she didn't, anyway," replied Bayub-Otal.
Tescon came up the track from the direction of the village and spoke to Lenkrit.
"They've got a hut ready for us now, sir, and some food."
"What about Maia?" asked Lenkrit.
"One of the women's going to look after her, sir."
"Do you think she can walk, Anda-Nokomis, or shall we carry her again?" asked Lenkrit.
The shaggy man, stretching out a hand, helped Maia to her feet. Her sense of not wanting to go on, of not being able to face anything new, had returned. She felt all reluctance; yet she let him give her his arm and went with him across the grass, past the staring, muttering group and on between the huts. Hard-trodden earth; wood-smoke; a peering face at a window, scraggy fowls pecking here and there, a fishing-net spread to dry, the crying of a baby, tattered garments hanging on a line. He helped her up a short, rough ladder into a murky hut where her feet sounded hollow on the boards, and here an old woman spoke to her-something about food-she could hardly understand a word She heard Bayub-Otal replying that she was ex-
hausted and needed sleep. The old woman, clucking and nodding sympathetically, knelt beside a pallet on the floor, drew back the coverlet and pummeled a couple of dirty cushions. Maia, smiling as best she could and wiping her running nose on her arm, lay down and shut her eyes. After a minute she asked for water, and as soon as she had drunk it-it tasted muddy-she fell asleep. Not even the excitement of the villagers below disturbed her, as Lenkrit, their baron, told them that the stranger who had forced the ford with him by night was none other than Anda-Nokomis, the defrauded and rightful Ban of Suba.
Not long afterwards all four of the Subans-even Pillan could hardly stay on his feet-having eaten, went to bed and slept as soundly as Maia.
Maia herself woke about the middle of the afternoon. She no longer felt exhausted, but her shin was painful and she had a headache. The room was close and stuffy and the muddy smell seemed everywhere-in the air, in her mouth, on her very skin. For some time she lay unmoving, conscious only of her discomfort. At length, when some creature stirred in the thatch above-a dry, stealthy rustle followed by a brief scuttling-she turned her head quickly in the direction of the noise. Sometimes, as she well knew, things fell out of thatch and landed on you. As she did so she saw Bayub-Otal standing with his back to her, gazing out of the window opening. Hearing her move, he looked round and smiled.
"Feeling better?"
She nodded and tried to smile back, but her heart was like lead. She sat up, pressing fingers over her aching eyes.
"Are you feverish?" he asked. "Tell me-really-how you feel."
"I'm all right, my lord: only I've got a headache and my shin feels that bad."
"Try to eat something: you'll feel better. People often get headaches when they first come to Suba-it's the marsh air-but it soon passes off."
"I'd like to wash, my lord. Reckon that'd make me feel better than anything."
He sat down on a rickety stool under the window.